Perhaps it was those eyes which unwittingly
promised more than she gave. Perhaps, above all, it was her
indifference. Yes, on consideration, it must have been her indifferent
air, the novelty of being scorned, that made him a slave.
But, of course, she was more flattered by his bondage than she showed.
Every night he planted himself in the prompt-entrance to watch her
dance and clap his powerful hands in adulation. She could not be
insensible to the compliment, though her smiles were oftenest for
Flouflou, who planted himself, adulating, on the opposite side.
_Adagio! Allegretto! Vivace!_ Unperceived by the audience, the
gaze of the two men would meet across the stage with misgiving. Each
feared the other's attentions to her, each wished with all his heart
that the other would get the sack; they glared at each other horribly.
And, meanwhile, the orchestra played its sweetest, and Clairette
pirouetted her best, and the Public, approving the obvious, saw nothing
of the intensity of the situation.
Imagine the emotions of the little juggler, jealous by temperament,
jealous even without cause, now that he beheld a giant laying siege to
her affections!
And then, on a certain evening, Clairette threw but two smiles to
Flouflou, and three to Hercule.
The truth is that she did not attach so much significance to the smiles
as did the opponents who counted them. But that accident was momentous.
Pages:
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265